


Art of mind

by KoeKu



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Edgar is hungry and his mind is running wild because of it ;), Geoffrey Mccullum (mentioned), Jonathan Reid (mentioned), Other, Pippa Hawkins (mentioned), Thoreau Strickland (mentioned), Waverly Ackroyd (mentioned), a lot of mentioned characters indeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 20:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoeKu/pseuds/KoeKu
Summary: Becoming a vampire means dealing with the need to drink blood. Sadly in most cases this is a non-consensual act, that, if not done correctly, will result in death or at least a rather nasty, unwanted wound and therefore hate and lost of trust. That's why Edgar Swansea, newborn vampire progeny of Jonathan Reid, is bound to chose his victims wisely in order to keep the Pembroke Hospital running and prevent himself from losing his position as administrator. Doctors, nurses and even some patients are definitely off limits. But a little bit of imagination isn't going to hurt, right?





	Art of mind

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: welcome!  
> Second: Welcome to my first fanfiction I wrote in englisch. :) I'm not a native speaker and I don't know native speakers who could help me out with this. So please excuse all possible mistakes I made! I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Edgar Swansea was sitting in his office. He spent most of his time as administrator of Pembroke there, something that didn't changed at all since he drank blood from Jonathan Reid and became an immortal. While he was still human he was unaware and therefore able to ignore the fact that some of his staff really disliked his absence during his shifts. But now he was able to hear it. Seated in his big, red padded chair behind his even bigger wooden desk he tried to concentrate on some of his research notes. But he wasn't able to because he was constantly distracted by the chatter of the doctors, nurses and patients, working and living in the hospital around him. One voice stood out in particular. It was the one of Doctor Waverly Ackroyd and it was loud, angry and exhausted.  
"Situation is still worse, now where's Doctor Swansea again? We really could use any helping hand and he's in his office all day and night! Oh and what about Doctor Reid? What is he paid for anyway?"  
Edgar frowned. Yes. What about Jonathan Reid? He hadn't seen his maker for several nights and while he was sure that Jonathan was alive and well (Edgar could feel it) he seemed to be far away. A cruel voice was whispering a name in his head, over and over again und Edgar felt a sting of jealousy because he was almost certain, that this voice was right. Geoffrey McCullum. For some reason Jonathan had made a habit out of running away with the vampire hunter for some "very important business". Edgar didn't understand it. And he didn't get how they got along after all. And truth be told: he didn't like it. Not a bit.

Annoyed he sighed. It was pointless. Even though he was trying very hard he was completely unable to concentrate on his work. His thoughts were racing in his head, his senses picked up on everything that was happening around him. He could hear the humans around him. He could smell them, almost taste them... By now he knew exactly why he was so restless and oversensitive. It was the thirst. The last time he fed was already a few days ago and with every hour, every minute, yes with every damn second this desire grew and would soon become unbearable. He was unable to think because every trace of thought, no matter what it was in the first place, ended up in this one thing: blood. He needed blood. Warm, fresh, lively blood! And again Edgar Swansea sighed, this time it was kind of throaty and out of growing lust. He tried to relax in his chair, closed his eyes and started tracing his lips with his tongue, ending with absentminded licking his fangs. He imagined leaving his office, following the sweet scents, picking someone - it didn't really matter who - and luring them in a dark, unwatched corner of the hospital to...  
Again his thoughts were interrupted by his ears picking up the loud voice in a corridor under his office and again it was Doctor Ackroyd.  
"Well, but I am NOT Doctor Strickland, Nurse Hawkins! By the way if this hospital wouldn't be run by a man caring more about his experiments than caring about his patients, things would go very different here!"

Edgar chuckled lowly. Oh, he was really upset indeed. He took a deep breath and started concentrating on the doctor still ranting about him and Strickland. He listened to his fast, strong heartbeat. And he was picking up the distant scent of his blood like a dog, slowly raising his upper lip and baring his sharp teeth, stifling a groan when he could hear the blood pumping faster through the veins because of Ackroyd becoming angrier. What a silly man. Edgar wondered if he even had the faintest idea of how delicious he was smelling right now. Swallowing hard he allowed his mind to create a scenario where he would surrender to his desire. He would go down, following Ackroyds voice and talk to him in a friendly manner. Pointing out that if he had something to complain about he might do so personally to him. And Ackroyd would grimace in displeasure like he often does and would say: "I have a lot of things on my mind indeed, Doctor Swansea!" Edgar would smile politely but with prudently sealed lips, answering: "Well my office is always open for you then." He would guide Doctor Ackroyd upstairs, following close behind, smelling him.

Edgars throat was aching by now because of the thirst and his undead heart was beating uncomfortably fast in his chest, pumping his vampire blood in lower regions. He felt himself blush deeply out of shame. But he didn't stopped his thoughts.

He would hold open the door for Ackroyd, still smiling, watching the other doctor enter, before closing it thoroughly behind them. Edgar imagined playing a few minutes with Ackroyd just like a cat playing with a mouse. Talking with him, listening and promising him everything he probably wants to hear, all while casually stalking closer and closer, cornering his prey, until Ackroyd finds himself trapped between Edgar and the desk. He would be confused for sure, maybe even angry. And then Edgar would grab him at his white doctor’s coat, yanking the surprised man against him, seizing his hair with the other hand to pull back his head and bare his neck. Wasting no more time he would press his lips to the skin and lick gently, feeling the jugular temptingly pulsing underneath. Finally, while embracing Ackroyd tightly, pushing him back against the desk and ignoring his pointless struggling, Edgar would sink his fangs into him, causing them both to groan out loudly.

Sitting alone in his office, eyes closed, Doctor Swansea could no longer hold back an actual moan. Oh how much he wished for this fantasy to come true right now! Following the aching urge to bury his teeth into something, he raised his shaking arm up to his open mouth and whined desperately when he bite his own wrist. Blood rushed into his mouth. His lips sealed around the wound and he started to suck greedily, picturing it to be Ackroyd's blood. A low growl erupted from his throat. He leaned forward, in his head he was bending Ackroyd slowly over his desk, who would have stopped fighting back by now and instead would helplessly clutch himself to Edgar and cry and moan in agony and pleasure.  
Edgar didn’t heard the sound of the skull hitting the ground after he accidently knocked it of the desk together with some papers and books. Only when he started to feel lightheaded he realised he was about to suck himself dry. Panic flashed through him, he yanked his wrist from his mouth and slumped back into his chair. His chest heaved with heavy, lustful breaths, he was unable to control the groaning still passing over his blood stained lips. 

Some time passed before he was able to think clearly again. The thirst seemed to be gone and this fact excited Doctor Swansea. With still shaking hands he grabbed pen and paper to write down his discovery, already planning further experiments. Was it possibly to fool his own body? At least for a certain amount of time? How long would he be able to survive like this? The enthusiasm he felt about the possibilities made him so light-hearted that he wasn’t even bothered at all about ruining his lab coat with blood and his pants with… well, something else he should probably be really ashamed of.

Edgar Swansea clapped his hands together, smiled widely and said to himself: “Well, this is going to be interesting! Very interesting indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Weeeell. That's it for now. I would be glad to hear what you think about it. It was totally random by the way that I picked Ackroyd for this. I'm thinking about writing another chapter with another citizen from Pembroke (or making a whole series because heey think big and so on xD), but to be honest I'm not sure yet.


End file.
